I am woefully naïve about how works from the perspective of authors (yes, this is my first fanfiction), so please help me as I muddle along…
Reviews are very much appreciated, even one-word ones.
I am from the UK; sorry if my American geography and culture knowledge isn't great. I will be using British spelling as well.
Disclaimer: In case you hadn't realised from the name of this website, this is fanfiction and I do not own Percy Jackson or any other series that sneak into this story. For one thing, I'm not a middle-aged American man.
~Set after PJO and HoO~
Prologue - The Beginning:
It all started when I woke up on Monday morning: My mum came rushing in, running a hand through her hair like she does when she's stressed. There was nothing strange about that – no, what was strange was that Paul rushed in right after her. Paul rarely visited my room in the mornings – it was my Mum's job to be my replacement alarm clock and get me up; he was always too busy getting ready for school.
'Percy,' he began seriously, perching awkwardly on top of my bedside table. 'Have you seen the news?'
I bit back the Of course I haven't! I only just woke up! retort which sprang to my lips and shook my head, perplexed.
'I think you should.' he said enigmatically and left the room. My morning brain didn't want hints and advice – it wanted answers. Well, it didn't want any problems at all, but straight and simple answers were next best.
A few minutes later, I stumbled along the corridor towards the living room and sprawled onto a sofa as the TV blared (I know monsters are attracted to phones and stuff because they send out signals, but Annabeth said that as TVs pick up rather than transmit signals, it's okay. And anyway, would you really expect me to stumble around clueless all the time about the goings on of the Mortal world? Actually, don't answer that). Anyway, I sat down and began to watch the news.
A glamorous news-reporter wearing too much fake-tan sat down at the desk and began to speak, wringing her hands agitatedly.
'This morning, the world as we know it has changed,' she began dramatically. I sat up slightly with interest as she carried on.
'Things that have been hidden to us for years have been revealed.' I began to feel uneasy; either she was a member of a barmy cult or something was seriously wrong.
'The first reports came in at approximately 3:50 this morning, EST, and told of strange sightings: a farmer from Arizona told us about a massive junkyard appearing in the local desert, while in LA, several new buildings have been noticed – a derelict 'Crusty's Waterbeds' along with the elusive 'DOA Recording studio'.' I gasped inwardly, these names all familiar to me: 'Crusty's waterbeds' was where Procrustes from our first quest had attacked, and the DOA recording studios was the entrance to Hades. The junkyard could well have been where we'd lost Bianca. All these pointed to one thing – the Mist failing. That thought alone was so ludicrous that I turned back to the reporter.
'-and in New York City, perhaps some of the strangest sightings have been reported: a massive city has been detected hovering over the Empire State building, which some claim is a sign of first-contact with aliens. Not only this, a mysterious camp has been discovered on Long Island with orange-clothed teens wielding dangerous weapons within. Experts have said that this camp may be related to the one found in the San Francisco bay area, and could be evidence of a dangerous cult. Also in New York City, a mansion has appeared on top of a disused factory in Brooklyn, with children seen entering and exiting.
'However, this is not just contained to America– reports from as far away as the United Kingdom tell of a triple-deckered purple bus appearing, driving erratically and disappearing before any inspections can be taken, dubbed the 'Ghost bus' or 'Night bus', this is certainly the most dangerous development for ordinary civilians. Now, to other news, Romney and Obama-'
My mind was numb. I was in denial. How could this happen? Why was this happening? You'd think that after two wars, a guy could just have a normal year, but apparently not. The Mist had officially disappeared. In my mind, I could imagine Annabeth correcting me and pointing out that there was no proof that the Mist had disappeared – it could just be that all humans had become immune, or it was a big joke, or it was down for maintenance- No, none of those were possible either.
I wondered vaguely whether this was all a big, very detailed dream but after several pinches I concluded that no, this was really happening. I sat there for a bit, still in denial.
In the end, I pulled myself together, realised that Paul had already left for Goode and that my mum had gone to a job interview, and wandered into the kitchen. I was planning on Iris-messaging Chiron when one fizzled into existence already.
Annabeth's blonde curls swam into view, along with a very worried face.
"Percy," she began uncertainly "What is happening?"